“Get some cops to protect our policemen.”
A tale of visual trickery, rotten luck, and arguably, the bleakest of Buster Keaton’s shorts, Cops (1922) finds The Great Stone Face losing the girl (she is unwilling to even think of dating the man until he makes something of himself) – so, he heads out into the streets of Los Angeles (actually filmed on them) to do just that.
Shot during the third trial of his good friend Rosco “Fatty” Arbuckle (charged with manslaughter), it is perhaps evident that the comic actor is not at his most cheerful. After making a few mistakes – Keaton’s use of the space onscreen and the items cleverly placed within it always awes and amazes, he accidentally purchases a cop’s furniture from a street scammer who has spotted that he has some dough (he also buys a horse and carriage that is not actually for sale). . . trotting away with the furniture in tow, he finds himself amidst a police officers’ parade and has the rotten luck of having an anarchist’s bomb land on the vehicle – completely unaware of what it is, he lights his cigarette with it, tossing it aside as it explodes (this idea very well could have come from fellow comedian Harold Lloyd, who, three years earlier, thought it would be funny to pose for photos as he lit a cigarette from the fuse of a bomb – it ended up being real. . . and the man lost his thumb, index finger, and a portion of his palm, it also left him partially blind for more than half a year).
Leading to Keaton becoming public enemy number one, the man must attempt to avoid every member of L.A.’s finest, hundreds of uniformed officers tracking the elusive man. An epic chase filled with gags, it moves along at warp speed, stunt after stunt coming in short order. Most impressive is a long shot that finds our hero running away from a slew of cops in an alley. . . as he makes it to the street, a car drives by – the actor grabbing hold of it, his feet dangling in the air as he flies off to momentary safety (100 percent real, it was filmed at a slightly slower ‘frames per second’ rate, nonetheless, mind-bogglingly cool and somewhat shocking that he did not wreck his shoulder).
There is also a gag that may need to be explained for some. . . Keaton takes his lethargic horse to a ‘goat gland specialist’, a snake oil style treatment developed by one John R. Brinkley (a radio pioneer who was able to run the scan in multiple states for two decades), claiming that the use of the above noted ingredient (those poor goats), could cure male impotence – hence, upon the horse’s exit, it is peppy and virile. . . Keaton, with an unusual look on his face, glances back in shocking amazement, deciding to return to the physician – alas, her forgot his iconic porkpie hat (oh, you cheeky comic).
A classic Buster Keaton short, Cops does not end on a happy note, nonetheless, it is a truly magical spectacle. With a nightmarish quality, this comedic version of a Kafkaesque tale finds the man having finally met his match in the form of countless cops and an unimpressed, aloof woman – yet, like any good comedy, somberness does not linger, the spirit of humour and laughter does. So, join the chase and experience some more of Keaton’s grave, death-defying stunts – they should not be kept under lock and key.